There is a place in Salvisa, Kentucky, where life is quiet but physically demanding. It’s a beautiful farm with a creek that trails through it. A small woods at the back of the pastures, hills and grasses, gardens and trees.

Here we raise sheep. They have a good life, moving from pasture to pasture following the healthiest grass. Some of them have distinguished themselves in the eyes of us humans and have names and stories. There’s an old studly ram named Moocher, and his five henchmen, a flock of about 100 ewes, of which a dozen or so have names, and many, many lambs.

This year we had lambs born January -May. Although that was not what we had planned, it seemed that nature had outfoxed us. There was some broom jumping in the pasture when we weren’t looking. But all the animals are healthy. They call out when they have eaten down the good grass and are ready to move. Then we have a sheep caravan from one place to another, as humans and sheep have been doing since the dawn of time.

We like this work, demanding as it is in some seasons or with some necessary chores. We like belonging to this long history of shepherding. We like the sense of timelessness that life on a farm gives us. It is a peaceful, beautiful way to live.